


if you keep getting burned

by platonicunicorn



Series: it just takes a little patience [2]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Connor Lives AU, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Larry is an asshole, M/M, Sadness in general, Trans!Connor, Transphobia, but nobody dies at least, connor is sad but still soft, deadname reference, they're both Depressed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonicunicorn/pseuds/platonicunicorn
Summary: Connor Murphy knows that life isn't fair, has never been fair, and will never be fair, for anyone involved. His cousin is leaving, his dad is an asshole, and his sister deserves a way better brother than someone like him.And Evan...Evan is much too good for him, anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((this is a sequel and therefore makes a whole lot more sense if you read [i'm making this up as i go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11683326/chapters/26298960) first))  
> hello again sorry about the wait, i moved to florida, started college, and then a hurricane hit, so, i've been a little busy.  
> (i'm posting this from my roommate's aunt's house in a different state because we're sTILL trying to stay away from Irma. honestly what a dick. hope everyone that's been affected by the hurricanes lately is staying safe <3)  
> this fic is gonna be angstier than imtuaig, just as a warning, and it deals a lot more directly with connor being trans and larry being an asshole. also, the main tws for the musical itself will start applying here, since past suicide attempt(s) and self-harm ARE referenced! pls be careful.  
> love you all! enjoy.

 

**C: hey you busy**

**E: nope what's up?**

**C: nothing much**

**E: okay?**

**C: ...**

**E: ...are you sure?**

**C: well katrina said this morning that she's going home early, apparently all her meetings went really well??**

**E: oh that's great! I'm happy for her**

**C: yeah**

**E: okay so what's wrong**

**C: nothing's wrong**

**E: connor**

**C: ok well**

**C: don't ever tell anyone this**

**C: especially zo**

**C: but**

**C: it's gonna suck not having abby around anymore**

**E: oh shit I didn't even think about the fact that she'd be leaving with kat**

**E: I'm sorry**

**C: it's ok**

**E: I'm gonna miss her too**

**C: yeah**

**E: is there something else??**

**C: not really**

**E: tell me**

**E: I mean unless you're uncomfortable with telling me then don't but**

**E: I wanna help**

**C: you're too good for me evan hansen**

**C: im gonna miss you too**

**E: haha you wish**

**E: wait**

**E: ...... do you think I won't come over any more if abby's gone?**

**E: you know that after the first day she wasn't the reason I kept coming over, right**

**C: what**

**E: well I**

**E: I just wanted to spend time with you**

**E: abby was an adorable bonus obviously, she’s really cute**

**E: but I wanted to see YOU**

**C: …**

**C: holy shit ??**

**C: im,,, cryinf**

**E: I kissed you twice, what the hell did you think that was?? me being polite?**

**E: you utter walnut**

**C: walnut? what the fuck evan**

**E: shush you deserve it**

**E: anyway I'm really sorry about abby. when is she leaving?**

**C: early in the morning :/**

**E: that soon!? tell them I said goodbye**

**C: sure**

**E: I'll come over to see you as soon as my mom leaves for work okay**

**C: actually**

**C: can i come over to your place instead**

**E: ? sure**

**C: great ok good**

**E: why?**

**C: just feels like we always hang out at my house**

**E: well that's cuz we do**

**C: right right w/e just want a change of scenery, if that's not too much of a crime**

**E: no!! that's totally fine! you're always welcome connor**

**C: then i'll see ya tomorrow**

**E: see you**

\---

Connor takes the steps down two at a time, hoping he’s late enough that dinner will have already been served and put away so he can grab a peanut butter sandwich or something else more edible than gluten-free vegan-friendly Buddhist casserole bullshit.

He tries to walk past his parents in the living room without incident, but his mother stops him.

“What’re— Connor, we’ve _talked_ about this,” Cynthia says, disappointment thick in her voice.

Connor scowls at her and tugs the sleeves of his hoodie over his arms. He hadn’t thought anyone would have the balls to say anything about it as he left, hadn’t bothered to cover up. “What, you actually care about it this time?”

“Of course I care,” she says. “I’m your mother. And really, Connor, you could at least think ahead a bit, considering—”

“Considering we have family pictures in a week with the Harrises,” Connor remembers. “Right. Of _course_. It matters this time because now I can’t wear a fucking matching _shirt_.”

Larry lays his newspaper on the end table by his armchair. “Watch your language. Your mother is right, Connor. You have _no_ consideration for how your actions affect the rest of your family!”

“Oh, wow, now that you’ve pointed that out to me, I’ll suddenly change my entire personality and make all of my decisions based on your preferences instead of mine,” Connor bites.

“That’s not what he said,” Cynthia says. “We just wish that you’d be less—”

“Less _what_.”

“Connor—”

“You were gonna say ‘depressed,’ weren’t you?” Connor laughs. “Oh my fucking _god._ ”

"Maybe she was!” Larry says. “It’s getting pretty damn old, and you’re seventeen. You don’t need to act up like this for attention!”

“ _Attention,_ ” Connor repeats. “I’m depressed. For _attention_.”

“Don’t say it like that! You don't even have the fucking  _right_  to be 'depressed!'" Larry shouts. "Do you have any idea how much money I threw at you for your  _treatments_  and your goddamn  _surgeries?_ Thousands of dollars!  _Tens_  of thousands, Connor, and you're still not fucking satisfied? What more do you want from me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe some _basic human decency_ for once, instead of treating me like a goddamn criminal!”

“You said surgery would make you  _happy_! I paid for it because I  _wanted_  you to be happy! And you're standing there, throwing my generosity back in my face? Do you know how many people would have never let their kids waste money like that?"

"That's not how it fucking works, asshole!" Connor shoots back, fuming. "Other people’s failures as parents don’t immediately make you a perfect father, okay? And my brain physically doesn't work right, I can't just think happy thoughts and fix it all, no matter how much I wish I could!"

"Why the hell not!? First there was the trans thing, now you’re all about being ‘depressed’ like you just need to make up something new for attention every time you get what you want! Everyone on Earth feels like shit sometimes, you're not  _special!"_

 _"I don't want to be special!"_ Connor says. "That's not even close to the point. I'd fucking  _love_  to be normal! It'd be amazing to not have a piece-of-shit brain that hates me and wants me dead. It'd be wonderful to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and not hate everything about myself! Why can't you _see_ that?" 

Larry pretends not to notice the way Connor's voice breaks on the last sentence. "I paid good money so that you wouldn't hate yourself anymore. Why the hell is it still a problem?"

"You want a fucking list?" Connor says menacingly. "Seriously? Because I've got a lot of fucking reasons—"

"Like what? If you're so worried about looking like a girl, cut your hair, or get a girlfriend! Quit wearing skinny jeans! It's not that fucking hard!"

"Are you  _fucking kidding me?"_ Connor laughs, without an ounce of amusement. "You think the problem is that my fucking _hair_ is too long?  _Fuck_  you."

"Connor! You can’t speak to me like—" 

Connor snorts. "Really? Huh? Cuz I just did. What the fuck is left for you to—"

"Caroline Ann Murphy, do not test me," Larry growls.

Cynthia gasps softly.

Connor freezes. "What?" he says. He wants it to be biting, to cut at Larry, harsh and angry. Instead, it comes out hardly above a whisper, more vulnerable than Connor ever wants to sound in front of his father. 

Larry frowns, and if Connor didn't know better, he'd say it almost looks like he wants to take it back, like he knows that was going much too far. 

Connor waits another second. Larry says nothing. He doesn't apologize. 

Connor nods once, more to himself than anything else, and walks right out the front door. 

His parents don't try to stop him, even though they and Connor all know this is exactly how it started last time.

\---

**Z: dad’s asking when u’ll be home**

**Z: he said you left a while ago but didn’t say how long u would be gone?**

**Z: mom’s rly upset too. did u guys fight while i was at practice?**

**Z: when r u coming back**

**\---**

**Z: answer your phone dumbass**

**Z: seriously where r u**

**\---**

**Z: connor im officially worried text me back pls**

**Z: alana has evan’s number**

**Z: i’ll ask him where u r if u don’t answer me**

**Z: tbh ur probably w him anyway**

**\---**

**Z: mom is suPer pissed at u rn**

**Z: fuck**

**Z: connor**

**Z: ur freakin me out**

**Z: this is way too much like back in july ok**

**Z: fuckin answer me before i start crying**

**Z: just pls tell me ur with someone**

**\---**

**Z: texting evan was previously an empty threat but istg i will do it rn**

**Z: pls connor**

**Z: come home**

**Z: or at least be okay**

**Z: please**

\---

**C: sorry about this in advance**

**E: sorry about what?**

**E: connor?**

A knock on the window startles Evan so much that he drops his phone. He whirls around and sees the face of Connor Murphy on the other side of the glass, looking entirely too innocent. Connor makes a face as Evan unlocks the window and pulls it open incredulously.

“What are you doing here?” Evan demands.

“Climbing through your window,” Connor says nonchalantly. “Romantic, right?”

“ _Why_ are you here, climbing through my window?” Evan rephrases, stepping back to let Connor into his room. “I’m pretty sure I have a perfectly functional front door.”

Connor shrugs, collapsing onto Evan’s bed without preamble. “Don’t want your mom to see me like this,” he says.

“Like what?” Evan asks, but then he _looks_ at Connor, and realizes he’s kind of a mess. His hair is unwashed, his hoodie looks like it seriously needs to be run through the laundry, and his eyes are rimmed with red. “Umm, Connor. Are-are you _high?_ ”

Connor smiles at him. “This would be so much less pathetic if that were the case, Hansen,” he says wetly, and that’s how Evan realizes that Connor hasn’t been smoking, he’s been _crying._

Evan sits next to him on the bed, frowning in concern. “What happened?”

“What makes you think something happened?” Connor asks, wiping his face with the sleeve of his hoodie as Evan glares at him. “Okay, look, Larry was just being an asshole again, don’t worry about it. I just don’t wanna be around him right now.”

“What’d he say this time?” Evan demands. “Because if it was something about how you don’t have, like, friends, or something again, I will—”

“Will what?” Connor interrupts. “I’m having a hard time envisioning Evan Hansen fighting someone.”

“I was gonna say, I’d be upset. Obviously I’m not going to fight anyone,” Evan huffs. “But I might have to depending on what he said to you this time. Seriously, tell me.”

“Don’t really wanna talk about it, honestly,” Connor mumbles.

“Because I know he says dumb shit sometimes—”

“Holy fuck, you _cursed_!”

“—but none of it is true, okay?” Evan grabs Connor’s hand and squeezes it in a brief moment of courage. “He’s— he really is an asshole, and you shouldn’t listen to him when he says shit, okay? You have friends— you have me, I count, right? You’re not— you’re not a waste of space, you’re an amazing person, you’re worth everything to me, and I don’t know what he told you this time but I can promise it was a lie, okay?”

Connor looks up at him, eyes shining. “You don’t even know what he said. You can’t promise anything.”

“T-tell me, then,” Evan says.

“You’ll get mad,” Connor warns. Evan just waits, so Connor sighs. “Fine. Whatever. My mom called me out about relapsing, my dad got pissed off and basically told me I can’t be depressed after all the money he’s spent on me, and then straight-up deadnamed me. So.”

“He _what_.”

“Like I said, he was being an asshole.”

“Well, that’s really… shit.” Evan pauses, squeezing Connor’s hand again. “Wait, didn’t you tell me you weren’t high? Why was your mom mad at you for relapsing?”

Connor stiffens. “Yeah, no, I didn’t mean relapsing with drugs.”

“Then what’d you mean?”

“Seriously?” Connor says, raising an eyebrow at him. “You don’t— of course you don’t. You’re adorable but damn, sometimes you’re oblivious as fuck.” He rolls up his hoodie sleeves.

Evan inhales sharply. “Oh,” he says.

He doesn’t really know what he’d been expecting, but it probably shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that Connor’s forearms are covered with crisscrossed thin white lines, interspersed with redder ones, longer ones, fresher ones. They disappear up past the end of the sleeve so that Evan can’t tell where they end, how far up his arm they go.

“Connor,” he breathes, and Connor yanks his arm back suddenly, shoving the sleeves down again.

“Yeah,” he says. “Anyway. Thought you’d already known. Sorry.”

“ _You’re_ apologizing?” Evan huffs incredulously. “Connor, I’m so—”

“Don’t,” Connor cuts him off. “Don’t. Just forget about it, yeah? Not forever, just… just for now? Please?”

Evan frowns, but nods hesitantly. “Just for now, I guess. Um. But you still should— I mean, like, do your parents know you’re here?”

Connor glares at him. “I don’t fucking care, I don’t _want_ them to know where I am.”

Evan shrinks back a little. “O-okay, fair. What about Zoe?”

At that, Connor deflates. “She’s… probably worried, yeah.” He digs his phone out of his pocket and turns it on.

Evan can see the screen is full of unread texts, almost all of them from “z” who Evan assumes is Zoe. They all look pretty urgent and upset, and Evan sees his name mentioned in a few of them as Connor scrolls through quickly.

“Fuck,” Connor says softly.

“M-maybe you should call her?” Evan says. “I’ll— I’ll wait in the hall, or something—” Evan stands up to leave the room but Connor grabs his wrist.

“No, you can stay.” He pulls Evan back until they’re sitting beside each other again.

Evan just nods, wide-eyed. “Uh, okay then.” He listens as Connor’s phone rings, dialing Zoe, and then as Zoe answers and immediately starts shouting.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Connor!” she says. “You know _exactly_ what this looks like, I am _not_ going through that again no matter _what_ Dad said to you, and you’re such an asshole for even _considering_ —”

“Yeah, I know,” Connor sighs. “Look, I’m fine, I’m at Evan’s house.”

“Knew it,” she responds. “Thank god.”

“And I’m not coming home tonight, alright? So Mom and Dad can just… fuck right off about that.”

“Connor—”

“Larry’s in some sort of mood, okay? It’s not even my fault. He was just going off again about the surgeries and shit he hasn’t mentioned since, like, 2015. I don’t know what his problem is, but I swear I didn’t do anything.”

“Really?” Zoe says, more quietly. “Cuz Mom said you were cutting again.”

“Oh my _fucking_ god, she needs to mind her own fucking business and we are _so_ not having this conversation right now, thanks,” he spits.

“You can’t just keep falling into this cycle—”

“And you can’t just decide you’re suddenly my therapist. Leave me alone, Zoe. I’m fine, I’m not dead, you can check the fucking meds cabinet because I didn’t even take any bottles with me this time.”

A beat of silence. “That is _not_ funny, Connor.”

“It’s not _supposed_ to be!” he shouts, and Evan flinches.

Connor glances over at him apologetically. “Tell Mom whatever she looks like she wants to hear, and tell Dad to go screw himself on his precious baseball bat collection. Don’t expect me home for a while, yeah?” And he hangs up, tossing the phone across the bed out of his reach.

He throws his head back against the pillow and shuts his eyes. Evan frowns.

“Maybe you shouldn’t—”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, Hansen,” Connor says menacingly. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to— I just— are you okay?”

Connor glares at him.

“Right, right, sorry, um, obviously not? I j-just, I _want_ you to be okay. I just think it’s not very fair to Zoe—”

“It’s not fair to me either!” Connor shouts. He sits up so he can look Evan in the eye. “It’s not fair that I have a dad who doesn’t believe in mental illness and a mom who cares more about family pictures than my wellbeing. It’s not fair that Zoe has to deal with me being an asshole, it’s not fair that _you_ have deal with me losing my fucking mind, it’s not fair that I’m still _alive_ after I—” His voice breaks, and he pauses. “It’s not _fair,_ Evan, but that’s _life._ ”

“I know,” Evan says softly. “I know.”

Connor scoffs. “How the fuck would you know what _any_ of this is like?”

Evan shrugs, pulling at the edge of his shirt. “Um, well. You know how I’m taking three different medications for my anxiety and… and all that?”

Connor nods.

“Well,” Evan continues. “I know it’s not the _same_ , but, like… It’s just like, my mom treats me like I’m some sort of burden, like she needs to _fix_ me— she never says anything, obviously, but I can tell. She’s so busy with her job and school and it’s my fault, it’s because I can’t get my own job and she’s gotta pay for the medicine and the therapist and the doctor’s visits, and— she never says anything but I know that I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to her, and everyone would be so much better without me and that’s not fair either.”

For a moment, Connor is quiet. Evan thinks that maybe he’s just going to tell him that that doesn’t count and Evan will never be able to understand what Connor’s going through and he should just shut up and never talk to him again.

And then Connor says, “I wouldn’t be better without you,” and Evan nearly starts crying right there. “There’s no way you’re the worst thing that’s happened to _anyone._ You’re… I mean, you’re literally the exact opposite of that.”

Evan laughs once, trying to subtly wipe away the tears gathering in his eyes. “Connor Murphy, are you trying to tell me I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”

He says it as a joke, of course, but after a single moment of contemplation, Connor looks right back at him and says, “Yes.”

“That’s not true,” Evan says immediately.

“Why not?” Connor shoots back. “I don’t have a whole lotta good things in my life, dude. Let me have this one.”

“You deserve so much better than a… than a _mess_ like me,” Evan says, gesturing to himself with a flippant hand.

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t think a better mess exists.”

“Well— well, _you’re_ one to talk,” Evan says weakly. “You’re so good with kids and you’ve got stupid perfect hair and a stupid perfect smile and I can’t imagine anyone thinking you’re anything less than amazing, whether that be Larry or your mom or yourself— so just— so let yourself be loved, okay? No matter what your dad says, you are so— loved.”

“You tryin’ to tell me you love me, Hansen?” Connor says with a tiny smile. “Isn’t it a little soon for that?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Evan says. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to— you shouldn’t think that no one loves you, because someone does. Zoe does. I do.”

Connor’s eyes go wide, like that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “Oh.”

Evan nods decisively. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Yep.”

“Can I—?” Connor doesn’t finish the question, just leans in toward Evan’s face and glances down at his lips, then back up.

“Oh!” Evan says, certain he’s turned redder than a Coke can. “Uh, yeah? I mean, yeah, sure?”

Connor kisses him, soft, and then Evan’s bedroom door opens.

“Hey, Evan, what’s— holy shit,” Heidi says. “Uh, sorry. Hi. Who’re you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nobody panic, abby will be back in the picture soon, jared shows up later, and heidi just wants her boy(s) to be happy  
> (also yes, whatever you're thinking happened to connor in july is probably what happened to him)
> 
> check out [my tumblr](http://theplatonicunicorn.tumblr.com) to make an internet friend and/or rant about ben platt's tony


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: connor talks about a suicide attempt fairly explicitly in here, and lots of suicidal ideation. nothing graphic, but he mentions it several times.  
> [note about the timeline – last july, before junior year, was connor’s attempt that zoe talks about. it is currently late june, summer after junior year.]

Before he has time to truly think about his actions and their potential consequences, Evan shoves Connor off of him and says, “Hi, Mom, hey, I wasn’t doing anything weird I swear— um, this is Connor, we’re working on a— a school project, together, right now, definitely—”

Heidi nods sagely. “Well, I certainly never had a school project like that, but times have changed I guess!” she laughs, and trails off awkwardly as the two boys stay silent, both red-faced and avoiding eye contact with each other. She clears her throat. “Um, Evan, I just wanted to tell you, I’m leaving for my night shift, and I left a twenty on the counter downstairs. Connor, it’s, uh, nice to meet you. You’re welcome to stay for dinner, too, of course, if you’d like. But I’m pretty sure the front door still works, yeah? Try to use it next time if you don’t mind.” She smiles at them, then closes the door again behind her.

Connor swallows. “Uh, so much for her not seeing me, I guess,” he says.

Evan suppresses a shriek. “Th-that just happened. I— I have to die now.”

Connor nods in dazed agreement. “You told her we had a school project,” he says.

“It’s _June_ ,” Evan says with dawning horror. “We’re _out of school._ We don’t _have class_ , Connor. Oh my _god._ ” He buries his face in his hands.

Connor pats his shoulder consolingly. “Sorry, Hansen, but you fucked up. Not that that gets you out of the conversation we were just having, but we can postpone that in light of recent developments. Want to get some pizza?”

Evan glares at him through his fingers, then sighs. “Y-yeah. Sure. Why not. I’ve got the site bookmarked, hold on—” He reaches for his laptop, but Connor grabs his wrist.

“Uh, no. What’re you doing, is that, like, Pizza Hut or something? I don’t fucking think so. Not in my house,” he says determinedly.

“…This is my house,” Evan says.

Connor shrugs it off. “Whatever. No shitty pizza allowed anyway. C’mon.”

“Are you going to get your Hipster Pizza again?”

“How can I _hear_ the use of capital letters in that—? Whatever. _Yes._ We’re getting my Hipster Pizza, because it’s delicious and way cooler than Pizza Hut.”

“And _expensive_ ,” Evan protests, but Connor grabs the laptop from him.

“Which is why _I’m_ paying. Or really, why _Larry’s_ paying. I have his card.” Connor holds up an American Express Centurion card and waves it around smugly. “He gave it to Zoe for a shopping trip or whatever and never bothered to ask for it back, so I took it. He won’t notice it’s gone, anyway, I’ve had it for weeks.”

Evan frowns. “Isn’t that like stealing?”

Connor shrugs. “Don’t really give a fuck if it is. He deserves it. Not like he’ll starve anytime soon. But _we_ , on the other hand…” He trails as he pulls up the delivery site and inputs an order. “Cheese?”

Evan nods. “Sure.”

It arrives twenty minutes later, the delivery guy driving a white Prius, which Evan pointedly _doesn’t_ laugh at the irony of. Connor gets up to answer the door so Evan doesn’t have to deal with social interaction.

Thirty minutes later, the pizza is entirely devoured and only greasy crumbs are left in the box. “Your mom is, like, _never_ here,” Connor says. The two of them are sprawled on the sofa, stomachs full, Connor’s fingers tracing paths up Evan’s arm. “Is it always like this? You just… spend every night here by yourself?”

Evan hums. “I mean, y-yeah, but it’s okay, though. She’s— she’s busy, she’s got class, y’know. It’s not her fault.”

“My mom’s usually not home either,” Connor says, “but she’s always just on ‘getaways’ and shit like that, since she hates spending time with her actual family so much.”

“Th-that’s awful,” Evan says.

“Yeah, but I’d rather her be gone than here. She’s constantly ragging on everyone when she’s home. And anyway, Larry’s way worse. I’d rather not have a dad at all than have to deal with him.” Connor pauses, looking at Evan guiltily. “I mean, sorry if that sounds insensitive, or anything—”

“No, no, I— I get it. Your dad is… pretty terrible. I don’t have to worry about what my dad thinks about me, at least. I mean, he could hate my guts but I wouldn’t _know_ if he did, so it wouldn’t _affect_ anything…”

“You worry about that all the time, don’t you?” Connor says knowingly.

“ _Yes_ , oh my god,” Evan says. “What if he knows all about my life and my problems and he thinks I’m the worst son ever and he’s glad he doesn’t ever talk to me anymore and wishes he could forget I ever existed?”

“Then you’d be in the same spot I am, and we could angst about it together.”

“Oh, yeah,” Evan says.

From the coffee table, Evan’s phone buzzes. “Will you get that?” he asks Connor. He’s too comfortable, leaning back against him like this. He doesn’t want to move. “It’s probably just my mom.”

Connor reaches for it effortlessly. “No password?”

“No,” Evan says guiltily. “I-I know I should have one, but I just— when I get anxious I start to shake a lot sometimes and that— that makes it hard to put in the right numbers and then I get frustrated and it doesn’t help so I just— just turned it off.”

Connor nods understandingly. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, it says— hold on, this is _not_ from your mom.”

Evan frowns. “Really?”

Connor holds the phone out to him with an expression that kind of looks like he’s trying not to make a face, so Evan takes it warily.

**J: my moms asking why she hasn’t seen you in a while**

**J: if ur not too busy with ur shiny new bf you should come over**

**J: i need to keep my car insurance**

“Who is that?” Connor asks. “Why’re they talking about car insurance?”

“Shit, um, sorry. It’s just Jared, he’s— he doesn’t really care about being— I mean, his mom pays for his car insurance as long as he pretends to be friends with me. It’s— he’s a family friend, so.”

Connor raises an eyebrow. “Kleinman? That’s… pretty shitty, Evan.”

“I-I know, but— but he talks to me, at least. Even if he’s only doing it because he has to, he still— he still _does_.”

“You deserve better than friends who just text you because they want car insurance.”

“It’s— it’s fine. I mean, that’s just how he is. And besides, I-I have you now, right?”

“Oh, I— yeah.” Connor flushes light pink. “Yeah, obviously, you’ve got me, that’s a given. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also have friends who care about you, y’know? That’s not fair.”

“He’s— he really doesn’t mean it like that, I don’t think,” Evan explains awkwardly. “He’s just… And anyway, you of all people should know life isn’t fair. I mean, we of all people. Both of us. That wasn’t supposed to sound mean or anything. Sorry.”

Connor shrugs. “You’re good. Seriously, stop apologizing so much. I just… think you deserve better.”

“So I need better friends, and you need better parents, and nothing in life is fair?” Evan summarizes, closing his eyes and settling back into Connor’s chest.

“Sounds about right,” Connor agrees.

-              -              -

 

“You’re welcome to stay, obviously, but— I need to do homework, actually?”

After Evan threw away the empty pizza box, they moved upstairs to his bedroom. Unfortunately (for Connor, at least), instead of just cuddling until they fell asleep, Evan had other plans. _School work_ plans.

“It is summer break, Hansen. What the fuck. No one does homework over the summer.”

“Well, they— the counselors said all incoming seniors should complete it and technically school starts in, like, three weeks, so I’m just— I thought—”

“Alright, Jesus, Evan. Don’t have an aneurysm. Do the homework, I don’t care. I’ll stay. What is it, exactly?”

“It’s a questionnaire form to help us find a future career. They mentioned it at the end-of-year assembly,” Evan reminds him. “They said it was required. We have to do it.”

“I didn’t go to the end-of-year assembly, actually. And ’required’ is really more of a suggestion, in my experience.”

Evan huffs. “You really shouldn’t skip assignments like that, especially not the very first one of the year,” he says. “It’s not hard. It’s just that you’re unmotivated. Here, I’ll print out another copy. You can do it with me.”

“Uh, okay, sure. Whatever. Don’t expect me to put effort into it,” Connor grumbles.

“I won’t, don’t worry. I just want you to see that you _can_ do it.”

Ten minutes later, Connor wants to die. “I can’t do this,” he says miserably, from his position sprawled out on Evan’s bedroom floor. “I don’t know any of the answers to these dumbass questions.”

Evan looks down at him from the bed, raising an eyebrow. “They’re just about you. Like, your personality and interests and stuff. How do you not know the answers?”

Connor huffs. “I’m… not big on self-reflection, if you hadn’t noticed. And they’re dumb, anyway. I mean, ‘What’s your favorite type of music?’ That depends. What do they qualify as ‘music’? What if I said my favorite music was the sound of a squirrel chewing on a plastic bag for three hours? How is that supposed to help me choose a career path?”

Evan shrugs. “That— that probably doesn’t qualify as music. And I don’t know. Haven’t you ever thought about what you wanted to do after graduation? A-a job, or going to college, or- or something?”

“College?” Connor laughs. “Evan, I never even fucking expected to _live_ this long, Jesus, and they think I spend my free time wondering where I’m gonna be in twenty years? I don’t give a fuck where I’m gonna be by next _week_.”

“You… what?”

“I have no desire to spend my weekend filling out these goddamn quizzes about my life.”

“No, I meant— go back. What do you mean, you never expected to live this long?”

“I mean, I literally thought I’d be dead by this point in time. Clearly I’m not, but not for lack of trying. Just… lack of succeeding.”

“Connor, you— you tried to kill yourself?”

“Seriously Ev? Did you not figure that one out already? Take one good look at my emo ass and tell me I don’t look like the kind of kid who tried to slit his wrists in the bathtub at least once. I mean, one good look, metaphorically, not physically. Don’t actually look at my ass. Well, unless you want to. But that’s not the point.”

Evan ignores that last part. “What the hell, Connor. You—”

“Okay, I didn’t actually slit my wrists, Jesus. Calm down.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I did try to overdose at one point—”

“Oh my _God_ —”

“—but that didn’t work out too well for anyone involved, and after like two weeks in therapy-slash-rehab my dad pulled me out, so.”

“Jesus _Christ_ —”

“Almost the exact opposite, actually, but nice try—”

“Connor!” Evan says, and it’s at that moment that Connor realizes that maybe he’s fucked up, because Evan is serious, and he looks like he’s about to burst into tears, or maybe start shouting at Connor, and neither of those would be good things. “When did that— when did you do that?”

Connor carefully avoids looking at him. He studies the ceiling in Evan’s room instead. “Summer before junior year.” He hates the way his voice sounds so small all of a sudden. He’s not supposed to be getting emotional about this. He’s moved past it, he _has_.

“So… like, eleven months ago? Not even a year?” Evan asks.

“Mmhmm.”

“And you— you haven’t gotten therapy, or- or medication, or—?”

“I just _said_ , I went to therapy. And rehab. Therapy-rehab. It was weird.”

“Yeah, f-for two weeks! Th-that doesn’t _count_. Your dad never— never let you get a prescription, or anything?”

“Have you _met_ Larry? Of fucking course he didn’t. Jesus, that’s why I’m _here_ right now, instead of at home. We had another argument about his dumbass problems with having to raise a mentally screwed-the-fuck-up kid, remember?”

“I-I know you were fighting with him, but you— you can’t just walk out on your family like that, they had to be worried—”

“I do _not_ give a fuck if they decided it would be convenient for them to worry about me this time,” Connor snaps back. “My ‘family.’ Like that means fucking _anything_.”

“… doesn’t it?”

“ _No_.”

“O-okay, sorry.” There’s a long pause. “Um, Connor.”

“What.”

“Why— um.” Evan takes a shaky breath, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. “Why would you— why would you do that?”

“Which part,” Connor says, without feeling, knowing exactly which part he means.

Evan stays silent.

Connor sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you. What do what you want to— to hear? What do you expect?”

“Th-that you— that you know that you were in a bad place, last summer, and that— that you don’t want to do that kind of thing to yourself anymore.”

Connor closes his eyes. “Don’t make me lie to you, Hansen. You deserve better than that.”

“Does— does that mean you’re still— I mean, are you…?”

“I don’t think so. Well, maybe. I don’t know. I… I was. I mean, I was going to, again. I had— a plan, I guess. Um. I— I didn’t plan on making it to the school year, honestly. And that’s not to say I don’t still think about it all the fucking time, but now you—” He pauses. Takes a breath. “This is dumb,” he amends. “Because I’ve only known you for, like, a month. But I think… you’ve helped.”

“I— how?” Evan asks, bewildered. “I haven’t— haven’t done anything.”

“That’s not true. Don’t tell me you already forgot what I told you earlier. You’re the best fucking thing that’s happened to me, Evan. I just— it’s just that it’s not _fair_ that I can’t snap my fingers and be totally better for you. I _want_ to be— I want to look at you and imagine what it’d be like to date you and in six months still be dating you, but I’m— I look at you and all I think is, ‘I don’t want to hurt him.’ I don’t know if in six months I’ll even still be breathing, and I don’t know if I’ll even really _want_ to be, except then you’d—”

He stops himself mid-speech when his voice breaks. There’s a creaking sound from beside him, and when Connor looks up, he sees Evan climbing off of the bed to lie beside him on the floor.

He takes Connor’s hand and says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Connor repeats.

“Yeah,” Evan says. “Six months is a long time. I don’t know what I’ll want by then either, really. And I think that’s okay. How about… tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Connor frowns. “I want to see you tomorrow.”

Evan smiles encouragingly. “We can do that. What about… next week? Anything you want to do then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, think about it. If you could do anything, what would you want to do?”

Connor sighs, still looking straight up at the ceiling. “…This is gonna sound so lame, but. I miss Abby. If I could see her, like, tomorrow? That’d be amazing. I just think… it was nice to be responsible for someone other than myself, for once? I don’t give a shit about what happens to me, y’know, but she’s so— I don’t know. Whatever. Like I said, _lame_.” He shrugs and starts to pull his hand out of Evan’s.

Evan doesn’t let him pull away, squeezing his hand instead. “I-I think that sounds really nice, Connor,” he says, and Connor faintly smiles.

 

* * *

 

 

Connor goes home around eleven the next morning, after they wake up tangled together on the floor in what is probably the least ergonomic position Evan has ever spent the night in. He kisses Evan on the cheek and climbs back out the window, even after Evan asks him not to because _Connor if you fall and break something it will be entirely your fault and I won’t know how to explain it to my mom so bE CAREFUL PLEASE—_ but Connor makes it down without so much as a scratch and winks from the ground, which really shouldn’t make Evan blush as hard as it does.

Once he’s driven off, Evan sits down on his bed and thinks for a minute.

Evan sighs. He knows how to do this. This is something his therapist tells him at least once a session. In for four, hold, out for seven. He breathes until he focuses on the numbers more than anything else. The texts are already composed, waiting. All he has to do is hit send.

He focuses harder. _In:_ _One. Two. Three. Four. Hold._

He presses the button.

**E: sorry to bother you but i have a question**

**E: do you have katrina’s email address?**

**E: not to be creepy or anything i promise**

**E: i want to do something for connor**

_Hold._

**Z: tell me what you’re planning and it’s yours**

_Out: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven._

**E: okay here’s what i’m thinking**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's consistent characterization? consistent upload schedule?? consistent writing style??? consistency????? don't know her. idk how many more chapters this will be but it'll probably only be one or two, i'll keep you updated.  
> (sorry y'all. i love you guys for putting up with me honestly it's gotta be difficult. comment to make me go faster. or to just yell at me for not being fast enough.) 
> 
> coming up, a featured appearance by everyone's favorite second cousin? first cousin once removed? who knows, whatever, she's cute and she's in the next chapter. and so is jared, who's not quite as cute (but almost is).
> 
> check out [my tumblr](http://theplatonicunicorn.tumblr.com) to see what i get up to when i should be writing this but im procrastinating instead


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